The Match

Don’t light me up.


Okay, this brief rumble’s topic isn’t around that lil’ combustible stick, but we are quite close. It’s about myself taking an entire day off from lab, making grammartical mistakes, and simply sitting through the afternoon, trying to rid my fragile and partial self-esteem of vanity.

How pertinent! But why? That we refer to such vanity as a match, that we venture this far into this wasteland, that we have spent no time regreting turning down some offer for “help”, that we did not seek to clarify the entire paragraph?

How perfect! But for whom? One that assumes I am a monolingual English user, one that had little regard of the world beyond the dragons, one that seem to understand my using English to escape crowd?

My people call this 买椟还珠. Containers in all likelihood do not matter here, and perhaps it’s time to resort to Klingon.

 


I had a dream – such big news – that the future I have been working towards suddenly came around me (as I drove around Crystal Summit Observatory of Paradise City). And suddenly it turned out not to be my future at all.

Exile Vilify started to play. Smart shuffling.

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